In Your Heart
by RiversMelody
Summary: *Post Reichenbach* Molly and Sherlock on the run after Moriarty attacks Molly. Sherlock tends to her wounds and comforts her.
1. Chapter 1

**I got bored one night so I wrote this :) Hope you enjoy it! **

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Molly shed her torn and ruined clothes as she got into the shower. The warm water soothed her nerves that had been taunted and terrorized for the past week. It didn't stop her nervous shaking though. From the time they had started running, she hadn't stopped shaking, no matter how hard she tried. Sherlock hadn't yet noticed or he hadn't said a word, because he simply didn't care.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to die and stop the running from Moriarty and his men. But he hadn't died, thus the running hadn't stopped. When they had faked his death, Sherlock had assured her she would be safe. He had stayed with her for weeks, but the day he had left the house for one moment, the men at found her.

Molly took off the bandages from her fingers and arms, wincing as the water stung against her wounds. They were scabbing over now, but weren't clean. She had meant to find alcohol to clean them, but she hadn't had the chance. She knew a few were infected but they were the least of her worries.

She was too worried about Sherlock. He wasn't talking unless it was necessary and that scared her. She not only wanted him to talk for his own good, she needed him to for her sake. She needed to be told everything was going to be okay, although it wasn't. She needed comfort. But it was Sherlock Holmes. To hell with that.

Molly turned her back to the shower head, wetting her hair. She screamed out in pain as the water hit the cuts on her back. She jumped away. She turned the shower water off immediately, covering her mouth. She prayed to god he hadn't heard her, but of course he had.

"Molly?" Sherlock said, knocking at the door persistently. "Are you alright?"

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I...I'm fine... I'm fine Sherlock." she said back, with her voice trembling.

The door knob jiggled as he tried to open the door. "Molly, let me in."

"I...I'm not decent!" she cried back. She could almost hear Sherlock rolling his eyes. "Then get decent!" she grabbed the biggest towel she could find and wrapped in around herself, attempting to cover every inch of skin that she could. She unlocked the door slowly. He pushed through immediately. "What happened?" he had his gun in his hand, checking every nook and cranny. She stuttered, trying to think of a lie. "The water... it got rather hot. I just startled myself." He pulled the shower curtain back with the tip of his gun, pausing at what he saw.

"Lying. Not your strongest suit Ms. Hooper. Try again." he said bitterly. She looked away from his glare, feeling uncomfortable. She didn't want to tell him. He had enough to worry about. He didn't need to worry about her. He never had. Why should he start?

"Molly, don't play games with me. However relatively brilliant you think you are, don't ever believe you are capable of that." he hissed. She looked at him this time, but didn't speak. He put the gun down on the counter and stepped towards her. She in turn, took a step back. Not intentionally but out of fear. "Molly. You are practically having a panic attack and there seems to be blood in the shower. Are you going to show me what's wrong?" Molly wanted to run. She felt sick and she was having trouble calming her breath. She hung her head, letting out a tiny whimper, and slowly turned around to show him the whip marks.

"He did more than just push you around Molly..." he mumbled, pushing the edges of her towel away from the wounds. She gripped it tighter and tried to turn around. "Molly, we need to clean these." he said quietly. She whimpered again and nodded shakily. Sherlock sighed, not annoyed though, sad. "Molly, I need you to calm down. Sit on the edge of the tub. I'm going to get the first aid kit." she shook her head "No. You don't need to." she said quietly. Sherlock sighed again. "Who else is going to do it?"

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Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock came in with a giant first aid kit. Molly had managed to calm down slightly, though it was hard with the pain radiating from her cuts. Sherlock knelt down in front of her as if she was a child. He looked at her with caring eyes "I found some clothes in the laundry room that might fit you. I cut the t-shirt so you can wear it as I clean your wounds. I hope it suffices." Molly nodded, taking the clothes. Sherlock politely turned his back as she changed.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the tub, legs on either side, mirroring Molly. He had begun to clean her wounds cautiously, feeling nervous about hurting her. He was cleaning around the outsides of her wounds when she gasped out in pain. "Sorry." she mumbled afterwards. Sherlock shook his head. "I let this happen to you. I'm the one who should be sorry." She winced again, making Sherlock stop. "Talk to me Molly. Just try to ignore the pain." Molly turned slightly to see his face."Why are you being kind to me?" she asked quietly.

He was acting ever so strange, tending to her wounds, respecting her and even stealing clothes for her. He was even showing emotion. Sherlock continued to clean her cuts "I'm always kind to you." Molly sniffed. "Lying is not your strong suit either Mr. Holmes." he sighed, breathing on her neck. "I'm being kind to you because it's what you deserve. You have done nothing but kind to me since we met, no matter how much of an ignorant twat I have been to you." Molly looked at her hands. "It's only because I love you." she said under her breath, not loud enough for Sherlock to hear her though.

But he heard her. He did and he wasn't surprised. "I love you too Molly." he said quietly. Molly made a noise, which came out as a squeak and moved away from him. "What did you say?" she asked breathlessly. Sherlock looked at her straight in the eye, and held a serious face. "I said I love you."

Molly blushed and turned her head back around. "Wow." she mumbled. Sherlock took offense to this. "You know, despite what people think, I am capable of having emotions. I do have them. All the time. But I have the capability of ignoring them when I see fit." Molly didn't say a word, as he moved closer to her to continue cleaning her wounds.

Molly played with the tips of her hair as she thought of what Sherlock had just said. Maybe she had actually just passed out in pain and she was dreaming. He loved her...? There was no way that was real.

Sherlock finished cleaning the wounds and began to put gauze on them. He had gone back to not speaking and it scared her. If this was real, she didn't want to be awkward around him anymore. She wanted to be able to talk to him. But she was Molly Hooper. She was always awkward and was incapable of speaking with anyone without being nervous.

Sherlock broke the nervous banter in her head as he placed a soft kiss on her neck. Molly froze, not even being able to think. Sherlock watched her carefully, kissing every spot that didn't hurt, slowly and gently. "Sherlock...?" she breathed quietly. "Mmm?" he mumbled in response, too preoccupied to summon actual words. "What are you... um." she bit her lip as shivers went down her back. "...doing?" she whispered.

Sherlock kissed her a few more times "Shh. Busy." Molly closed her eyes tightly, trying to maintain the noises she was internally making. She turned her face to see him, and he caught her chin. Kissing her tenderly, he made sure he didn't touch any part of her that would hurt her. Molly pulled away and faced to wall in front of her. "Molly?" Sherlock asked quietly. She shook her head in response. "You... I can't."

Sherlock brushed his fingers through her wet hair. "Not like this. You're just doing this because you feel bad. You don't actually care. You-you're Sherlock for god sakes." Sherlock stood up abruptly and walked out. Molly let out a whimper of an "I'm sorry." and put her head in her hands. She heard the slamming of the front door of their motel room.

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A few hours later, Molly had changed back into a baggy sweater and her hair was up in a high ponytail. She was lying on her stomach reading when Sherlock walked in with two coffees and some bagels. "You need to eat. Sit up." he said emotionlessly. Molly watched him carefully as he handed her the bagel and coffee with her name scribbled across the wrappers. Molly wanted to say something but couldn't. She had hurt him and didn't want to say more. "You can stop staring at me and eat." he hissed.

Molly hung her head as the venom in his words hit her. As Sherlock sat down next to her and drank his own coffee, she looked up at him, only to realize he was staring too. Resting the warm beverage on the bedside table, she turned to him. "I'm sorry Sherlock. It's just hard for me to believe that you could love someone..." Sherlock cut her off. "I do have emotions Molly! Why is it so hard for you to understand?"

Molly rested her hand on his knee. "I meant someone like me. You are a genius and I'm a simple pathologist. There is no reason for you to even notice my presence." Sherlock touched her neck, caressing her cheek. "I have every reason to my dear. One tends to fall in love with the person who rescues them." Molly smiled at him before kissing him softly.

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**ps. Thank you for the reviews! I'm sorry this wasn't longer or that any of my stories are longer but I have ADD and can't really focus for long periods of time. I will try to write longer ones!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for reading and reviewing last chapter, and please try to do the same for this chapter :3_

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The kiss didn't last long, but it felt like it. It had felt like time had frozen just for them. Molly grinned against his lips before pulling away, ducking to hide the redness dancing across her cheeks.

"I need to eat." she mumbled. Sherlock nodded,

"Not a valid reason to stop kissing me, but I will take it."

Molly let out a small giggle before taking a sip of her coffee.

Sherlock watched her carefully; as she brought the cup to her lips, her eyes fluttered shut momentarily. He noticed how the dim lights made her eyelashes cast soft shadows just beneath her eyes. When she looked back up, she caught his eyes on hers and blushed once more. She kept her eyes on his though, curious of why he would be staring at her like that. His eyes were so fixed on her, looking almost amazed.

"What is it?" she whispered, crossing her legs on the bed. Sherlock shook his head, smiling ever so slightly.

He couldn't grasp with any part of his logical being why he was feeling this way, why he had kissed her, why he was being so caring and why he wanted this. But he did.

"You truly are beautiful." Molly nearly dropped her coffee along with her jaw. Before she could even attempt to summon words, he turned to face her completely.

"I've either shut it out for distractions sake or just haven't noticed. But you are very pretty." he said softly, eyes still focused on her and nothing else.

He wasn't even thinking when he spoke, he just did, like he needed to. He needed to tell her these things, and he couldn't fathom why.

Molly had shut her mouth, and was now smiling. She had no idea what had gotten into Sherlock, but she liked it. He chuckled at her surprise.

"I have done this before. Long ago. But I have been with a female." Molly's mind raced at the thought of him being with a guy. Mentally slapping herself, she brought her thoughts to something more appropriate.

"You have always seemed so... um. Asexual." she admitted.

Sherlock smiled again, a genuine smile.

"I haven't felt the need to show emotions. With the amount of emotions I ignore, I rarely notice if I have any. So yes, I suppose I am-was asexual." Molly nodded thoughtfully.

"You're rather good at this. The feeling thing." she said shyly, regretting it slightly as she said it.

"I was. I used to be normal. Until I was 19, when I lost someone. The only way to emotionally cope, was to shut emotions out." his eyes saddened. Molly brushed her hands through his bangs. "I'm sorry." she whispered.

Sherlock shook his head, stiffening. Molly thought it was because she had touched him, but realized he was trying to shove emotions back in the closet.

Molly looked away, not sure what to do. She hadn't ever dated a man this emotionally inept.

Sherlock felt his throat thicken, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. He felt himself panic, realizing he had just opened his heart to this girl, who he did care for but wasn't sure if he could handle it. He felt a part of him slip behind his shield, his defense mechanism that was so automatic by now. He reached out and grabbed Molly's hands suddenly, trying to hold on. He didn't want to lose this part of himself.

Molly's eyes had flickered back to his. Sherlock had startled her, and now there was a look in his eyes. He looked scared and desperate, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

"No." he choked out. His throat was so thick. He had forgotten what this was like, and the analytical part of his brain was fighting him, trying to scream at him, telling him this would be dangerous, that he would get hurt and even though that stupid voice in hidden depths of his mind was telling him that emotions didn't matter, that they were weakness, he was fighting. He wanted this. He wanted her, as if she was the only thing in the world that he wanted, needed.

Sherlock Holmes needed someone to survive, and with every hidden and distraught emotion, he knew that person was her.

So he sat there, unaware of what his body was doing, simply mentally arguing with himself in his mind palace.

"Sherlock, are you-" Molly tried to ask, worried. He looked as if he was about to have a fit, and not his insulting fits, where he hated on everything in the room and every characteristic, but a full on epileptic seizure.

He was frozen, and was squeezing her hands so tight. But he interrupted, through his shaking.

"Kiss me." he whispered. His eyes focused back to her, back from his mind palace that was now torn apart and confused. His head was aching and buzzing uncontrollably.

But he knew how to fix it. For some strange reason, the last time they had kissed, it had been like he had being doing drugs. His mind had emptied itself and forgotten everything that made his brain hurt.

With a tiny, confused nod, Molly obliged. She leaned over, and took his face in her hands.

As she kissed him softly, Sherlock analyzed everything about her. He wanted to be emotional for her, and he didn't want to say things that he meant, but could potentially hurt her emotionally anymore.

Sherlock inhaled deeply as the kiss intensified. He wanted to be as close as he could to her. So, being as careful and gentle as possible, scared to hurt or break her, he pulled her onto his lap. Her eyes flickered open to find his beautiful blue eyes watching her. She followed where he guided, nervously but willingly.

Sherlock wasn't the only one whose mind was buzzing. Molly had to keep reminding herself how to breathe, how to think and especially how not to pass out.

She loved every second of this. She felt needed and secured and that everything she needed was right there. But yet she was still incredibly nervous. A twinge of anxiety was making her stomach flip, and making her hands shake slightly and her breath uneasy.

It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying Sherlock snogging her until the moon turned blue, it was the fact that it was him. He was so perfect and incredible, and she was her and she was terrified she would mess things up somehow.

But when Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist, touching the small of her back, her thoughts vanished. She decided to focus, and not over think any of this, and to enjoy it while it lasted.

Sherlock suddenly got an idea, and not sure of where it came from, followed through with it. He held Molly's hips securely as he fell backwards, collapsing on the bed, bringing her with him.

Molly let out an exasperated "oof" and stopped kissing him. She giggled softly, and looked down at him with a childish grin on his face. Sherlock kissed her again, and she nearly drowned in him.

"I have to say, we're fairly good at that." Sherlock muttered, running his fingers through her hair sleepily. Molly smiled with her eyes shut, exhausted.

"Mhm." she acknowledged his words. Sherlock frowned slightly

"Though I do apologize if I hurt your back." Molly sighed.

"I'm okay." she lied. Sherlock noticed and kissed her neck softly.

"I'm sorry." he mumbled, chuckling over the red marks decorating her neck. Molly looked at him though a half shut eye.

"It's not as if I'll be near anyone who knows me." Sherlock's emotions faded. He had taken her from her friends and family for a reason he claimed was for her safety. In reality, she was as safe as John and Mrs. Hudson. He had only asked her to come for his own selfish reasons. Sherlock would usually never find fault in that but now, after holding her and being so close to her, he felt connected to her.

Luckily for Sherlock, Molly had dozed off in his arms. She had not seen the look of realization and dismay. He kissed her forehead and leaned her head against hers. He fell into his mind palace and back into his world of deduction.

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_I hope I did okay :) __**SHOUT OUT TO WAY WORSE THAN SCOTTISH BECAUSE SHE GOT ME INTO THIS INSANE FANDOM 3**_


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